


Working Up To

by taispeantas_laethuil



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Not talking about feelings, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 20:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9511055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taispeantas_laethuil/pseuds/taispeantas_laethuil
Summary: Or: all the places on the Bull that Dorian kissed before his kissed his mouth.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tofsla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tofsla/gifts).



The first place Dorian kissed the Bull was on the inside of his thigh. It was a move meant to tease, a kind of declaration of intent, in case getting down on his knees wasn’t clear enough.

So he pressed his lips against the soft, yielding skin, and ignored his cock entirely for a moment, just to hear the sharp intake of breath that elicited from the Bull.

* * *

 

The second place was on the neck, and was mostly an accident.

Dorian was straddling the Bull’s thighs, his head buried in the junction of neck and shoulder as the Bull took his time, his hand moving slowly, as so slowly, over Dorian’s cock.

It just happened. Dorian was quick to turn it into a bite.

* * *

 

The third place was on his good knee, and definitely on purpose.

The Bull was laid out, his bad leg stretched out and propped up on a pillow, his good leg bent up as Dorian fucked him. Dorian watched his face with rapt attention, watching for every smile and lip bite as he shifted, experimenting with speed and force and angle. He watched sweat drip down from his horns and pool at the hollow of his throat.

The knee- the good knee- was nearer, practically level with his head, and entirely too tempting.

* * *

 

The fourth place was on the back of the hand, though he wasn’t sure it counted, as it was before a dance performed before the whole of the Orlesian Court.

The whole affair had the feel of a joke that had been taken a little too far, but everyone had become too invested in to let go. Ah yes, have the disgraced Tevinter and ex-Qunari dance- wouldn’t that make quite the distraction from the Inquisitor leaving the party?

So Dorian pressed a kiss to the back of the Bull’s hand, and they danced, and there was nothing personal about it.

* * *

 

The fifth place had been the palm of the Bull’s hand, and at his request. Dorian could hardly use his watchword when the Bull was muffling him against the palm of his hand, after all.

“Bite down if you need to stop- don’t worry about hurting me. I’ll be asking you to check in from time to time,” he said. “If you want to continue, just kiss my hand.”

The mountain wind was searingly cold where the Bull had pulled at his clothing, the battlement walls hard and unyielding beneath his fingernails. The Bull’s grip was firm and his cock pressed into him with an unrelenting burn.

“You want this?” The Bull asked, though the tone was never one of a question.

And each time, Dorian pressed a kiss to his palm.

* * *

 

The sixth place was his forehead. It was ridiculous, but despite Vivienne’s reassurances that he would likely awaken in the morning none the worse for wear, he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it.

He couldn’t quite shunt aside the memory of the Bull laying there, so very still and bloody.

* * *

 

The seventh place had been the Bull’s bad knee, and it had been practically a medical necessity.

“I’m not watching you limp your way through the whole of the Emprise,” Dorian told him. “Now take those ridiculous trousers off.”

In very short order Dorian found himself kneeling, tracing the shape of the knee and its injury with his fingers, familiarizing himself with its shape.

“You aren’t going to kiss it better?” the Bull asked.

Dorian leaned forward and kissed him. “Did that help?”

“Could use a little more,” the Bull admitted.

Dorian smiled, and got to work.

* * *

 

The eighth place had been the Bull’s arm.

They had just finished fucking, and were a sweaty and sated mess. The Bull’s bulk rested against his back, his cock still within him, and the arm he’d been bracing himself with resting right against Dorian’s head.

He leaned up, and kissed it. The Bull nuzzled against his neck in response.

* * *

 

The ninth place had been his chest. Sweaty and covered with vitaar and ichor, but Dorian fancied his could feel the Bull’s beating heart beneath his lips.

* * *

 

They’d won.

They’d won, they’d won, Corypheus was dead and the world was safe at last. They’d won, and they were all of them still standing. They’d won, and Dorian was drunk with it before the first sip of ale had passed his lips.

They’d won, and the Bull was right there, laughing as Dorian pulled on his horns. Laughing still, as Dorian pressed their lips together.

Dorian felt the warm stutter of breath against his lips. Felt the curve of the Bull’s smile, and the press of fingers against his cheek.

They broke apart just for a moment, just long enough to ready themselves to try to do it properly. 


End file.
